


Second

by isitandwonder



Series: Sherlock Advent Calendar [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, just plain smut, that pretty much sums it up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5334914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isitandwonder/pseuds/isitandwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That was … amazing.”<br/>“Do you think so?”<br/>“Of course it was. It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary.”<br/>“That’s not what people normally say.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second

„Are you going to fuck me?“

„Sorry, what?“

„Intercourse, John.“

„Do we really have to discuss this over breakfast?“

„Well, why not?“

„Because it' a bit… inappropriate.“

“Oh. Ok.”

\----------------------------------

“Can we discuss it now?”

“What exactly?”

“Sex.”

“We're in a morgue, Sherlock.”

“Yes, so no one will be eavesdropping.”

“Sorry, this is… I'm not really in the mood for it right now, ok?”

“Ok.”

\---------------------------------

“Are you amenable?”

“Is this about penetration?

“Yes, obviously.”

“Could you wait until we arrive home. I fear we’ll be kicked out by the cabbie if we take the topic further on his backseat.”

“All right. At home, then.”

\------------------------------------

Therefore, as the door closes behind them, John finds himself pinned to the wall, hands above his head, while Sherlock presses against him from chest to mid-thigh, snogging him thoroughly. Only as Sherlock starts to bite his way down John's throat can he gather enough breath to call for a halt.

“If you want a shag I suggest we take this to the bedroom.”

They shed their clothes on the way towards it, entangled in a fierce bundle of limbs – Sherlock all elbows and knees and long arms and even longer legs – tugging at each other, nudging, shoving their bodies against every available vertical surface to gain leverage until they reach the bed, where John uses a tried and trusted rugby tackle to finally prevail. He's straddling Sherlock, who writhes underneath him until their hard cocks colide and both men gasp at the contact. John takes them both in hand and starts stroking. Sherlock closes his eyes and grabs John’s hips hard. They rock together in an increasing frantic rhythm.

“God, Sherlock… stop!”

Sherlock moans, desperate and disapproving but John has to still, otherwise this will be over far too quickly.

“I'll just need to prepare you. Do you have something… squidgy?”

 

Sherlock smiles smugly and John takes fright but then he starts giggling as Sherlock fumbles in his bed side drawer until he comes up with a small sachet: 0,7 fl. oz. of Sonogel (promising _“excellent coupling values”_ ).

“Where did you get that?”

“Pinched it from St. Bart's morgue.”

“They do sonography on corpses? Well, never mind.”

John squeezes the cool jelly unto his fingers before spreading Sherlock's thighs, resting one heel of Sherlock's bony feet on his good shoulder to get better access. John carefully smears the lubricant between Sherlock's buttocks, down his cleft and over his twitching hole before smoothly pushing one finger inside. The second one proves a bit more difficult but Sherlock quickly adjusts. Only the third is met with downright resistance; Sherlock hisses in pain and John slows down a fraction but his considerate behaviour only earns John Sherlock's impatient exasperation as he demands: “More! Deeper! Harder!”

John can never deny Sherlock anything and in this situation, it would seem especially rude to do so as Sherlock is laid bare so wholeheartedly, almost serving himself up on a plate.

Eventually John removes his fingers, strokes his straining cock a few times to wet it as good as possible, lines up and pushes in. In this position, he is able to witness the awe and wonder that cross Sherlock's face as the head of John’s cock breaches his sphincter, slowly pressing in until he's buried to the hilt, his dark blond pubic hair brushing against Sherlock's perineum.

Sherlock is so tight that John has to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths as not to come immediately. Only when he'd calmed down a bit does he start to move and is rewarded with a gloriously raw moan from the man beneath him. Before long, he's buggering Sherlock in earnest, who's taken his hard cock in his right hand, his fist blurring as it moves up and down. The fingers of Sherlock's left hand reach even lower between them to tug and fumble his heavy bollocks until he nearly screams when coming, his muscles clenching, clamping down on John, who stills for a second before speeding up regardless, finally shooting his load up Sherlock's still spasming arse.

Afterwards, John lowers Sherlock's shaky leg and slumps down, resting his forehead on a sweaty sternum, gulping in air. Sherlock's hands stroke up and down John's spine in an absentmindedly tender gesture but before long he asks John to move because his damp body shivers in the cold. The come starts to uncomfortably dry on his stomach, making Sherlock's skin itch.

John rolls of, huffing exhausted: “That was… amazing.”

“Do you think so?”

“Of course it was. It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary.”

“That’s not what people normally say.”

“What do people normally say?”

But instead of answering, Sherlock just slips from the bed and stalks into the bathroom, leaving a contentedly dazed John behind in his bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock transcript quoted from the marvelous work of the wonderful Ariane Devere.
> 
> Also, I'm open to prompts, so if you desire something special, feel free to ask – I'll oblige if possible. Just use the comment section or email me at blue888@web.de.


End file.
